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Thursday, October 1, 2009

Califone - All My Friends Are Funeral Singers

Two short, innocuous somethings written under the influence of All My Friends Are Funeral Singers:

(1)
Truncated elefant walks into forest – mechanized chaos patter (murmur murmur) – yells: “You anti-irridentites!” and the birds flush from the trees. She eyelashes them(!), her ear feathers bristling and shuttering at the thought of being birdly. He is the first in that history to climb down from the tree -(monkey)- walk to the corner of the forest, buy bees in a large net-balloon and pass them to her. They buzz at the tiny net holes, a constant engine puttering. She is satisfied. Murmur putter murmur down to the wooden lakeside and relax and sing at each other until tomorrow. A whole day. Truncated elefant is eyewide, her bees asleep and netted on the clay mud, monkey around her knee. He too zzzzs. The lake murks because of moonlight carried into the morning. Other bugs are also awake with the world – with her. It’s a funeral for her Walkman.

(2)
Driving against the glare of wide, speckled robots shoveling road shoulder dirt. Wires and poles gridding their backs, pumping arm shoveling oil about and leaking. Still, there’s grass atop their own non-road shoulders so they don’t have to stay out all night. Still, driving. Can’t swerve for ten points while taking one who is to give birth. It is hard to look straight through the hood weeds. There has been no engine trimming since the weekends stopped occurring. Just all of the sudden and “wow, seriously?” and then, no more Saturdays, no more Sundays, Fridays stop at 5, Mondays start on Fridays. Robots!

I think you might be surprised at how much I love this album. But then again, with somethings like those, maybe you wouldn’t be.